


an intervention

by roguewrath (purqatory)



Series: cliff's edge [6]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: F/M, Gen, One Shot, One Shot Collection, Slow Burn, Undercover, Undercover Missions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-13 00:57:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11173662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purqatory/pseuds/roguewrath
Summary: A mission. There's undercover action going on, and then there'sactiongoing on.





	an intervention

**Author's Note:**

> creeping back into fic writing and this came up.... ;)

_She_ knows Cassian has seen the target - _woman_ 's image enough times to remember how she looks like, but he does it, again, now, as he puts his credits into his pockets, enough to include as the alibi of an influentially-wealthy human in Tatooine.

Her mission is simple: simply disappear into the masses and waits for the opportunity, if need be, to distract (Solo had nudged her gleefully and muttered: _just for the sake of it_ , and smirked when she landed an elbow into his ribs, which had earned a warning glare from Draven).

Cassian's mission is to brush the dust off the contacts Willix has been gaining through the years, to meet a recently-surfaced source of data leak from the Scarif reclamation project being conducted by the Empire. There are risks, the whole team being the ones who actually are responsible for the destruction of the base, but a risk _Draven_ is willing to take, _Cassian_ to plot a two-person undercover operation, and for _Jyn_ to volunteer as his second (under Princess Leia's not-subtle-at-all looks).

So here they are now: Jyn in a hastily cut-off dress that was lying around the base, and some hosiery and shoes that Shara procured for her; Kes' spare arm strap for weapons only fits around her thigh, which is just fine. Cassian in his tailored uniform, the collar stiff enough that when Jyn had reached over to take his headset to bid Bodhi goodbye, it audibly scrapped against her palm and caused Cassian to jumped, cursing, and gripped her hand in his gloved one. The planet is not cold enough to warrant any outerwear, and she isn't going to pass away the excuse of needing to head home because of the chill.      

"An hour, then in and out." Cassian is saying as he slips a vibroblade into her holster. He must have felt the shape of her extra palm-sized blaster and mutters about Han Solo and Leia before pushing away from her, officially starting the mission. 

Jyn hangs back and waits in line as  _Willix_ flashes his uniform and gets into the bar without, and glances around and across to the grubbier parts of Mos Eisley, separated only by a sandy street. 

She spends half the time waiting to get into the bar, and indulging anyone who strikes up a conversation with her, about her potential date, an officer, no less, and preens under their wishes of luck and fortune. She cracks her toes in her heeled shoes every time they told her so. She is just getting used to fluently offering up her daily routine as a secretary in the city building and how the laws to ban the Jawases from edging closer into the city going when the ones minding the door yells at her to enter the bar or get the kriff out of the line. Jyn offers a somewhat genuine smile as she cheerily promised the ones behind her that she will see them inside. 

The bar is not as busy as they predicted, but crowded enough she doesn't realize the bar-keep is trying to get her attention. 

"Are you the girl in the velvet dress? Your date is waiting over...." The bartender grimaces. "Sorry about that. At least the drink's on him." 

 _It's only because of the face_ , Jyn uses the motion of hoisting herself up to the chair to emphasize her scoff and tucks into her drink."Huh." she supplies, and takes the glass from the bartender. The clip is still stuck in the bottom and palming it, she scratches at her collar, for the benefit of the cover if the unfamiliar bartender decides to stay gauging her reaction, which he does not, and slips the data into her bra. 

The bar, and her height for once, gave her a vantage point, the rest of the room reflects to the mirror behind the counter and she shifts slightly, stopping herself from rolling her dress back down, to nonchalantly prop her chin on her arm so she can keep her gaze trained at the back corner, just as Cassian has assigned himself to be.

It is the drink, she tells herself, yet she can't make herself look away; her eyes sears the image into her head. How Cassian's fingers tangles into her hair, slicking through her golden head, how their heads contrasts and basks in the spiralling lights, how he looks so normal and carefree in his clothes, how the woman seems to embrace him without the air of desperation, how he is touching her without fear, smoothing his hands down her back.

Something grips her the way _pretending_ never did: they are on a mission, they are both playing a part, but how normal Cassian looks is what she can't look away from. He looks like someone that belongs there, not because Cassian Andor is good at his job, no, but in a fairer world, his life's worry will be spending his nights and earnings on the gambling tables, or drinking and laughing with his friends that doesn't worry when they will be called to their deaths, or meeting a woman's eyes across the room and doesn't need a reprogrammed-droid's liability assessment in his ear if he wants to bring her home. 

If _they_ , existing in that kinder universe somewhere, does get the chance to cross, will he turn his head to glance back at her? Will she choose the chair next to his at the bar? Will he admire her from afar, his brain churning out questions he knows he will not fumble over? Will she allow him a smile that only has the meaning of wanting to know more of him?

As he glances up and meets her eyes in the mirror, Jyn blinks, once, and Cassian lets go of the woman. The woman purses her lips and covers it to stop laughter from escaping. Willix offers her a smile and gestures back to their glasses.

Jyn left a tip and with the extra credits, goes over to the music booth and abruptly changes the tune. The night is well underway that no patrons rises their heads to protest. She offers up another bright smile to the minders by the doors before heading out into the cooled night, keeping her chin up, towards the stars as the guise of making sure there is no surveillance on the rooftops. The night is still young and she doesn't even need the cover of the lively night crowd for her to force the power-source box open with her blade. Her ferocity is not necessary, and it does the job too well. Sparks flies from the wiring and the lights from this side of the city falls from the buildings and there are surprised yells, mixed with a few screams.

The secretary from the city building who got stood up by her officer slips away from the city, distraught that her prospects and progress to pass discriminatory laws have all failed within the day. She even wistfully waved farewell to the two men who stood behind her before.      

It is a mission for two, and she is thankful and not at the same time, that K-2 did not come along. Jyn leaps into the ship, satisfyingly ripping the dress clean up her thigh. The ship is started, humming when three fist and a flat slap signals his arrival.

She knows he expects the whole verifying procedure, but she is not in the mood. Jyn grabs her pack and her combat boots as she opens the door, and heads down to the lower deck with a brief acknowledgement. Then, without even glancing back, she slips the data chip from her dress, takes it between two fingers, and balances it on the top railing. 

Cassian jumps down the ladder, the same time he yanks his cap from his hair; his fringe falls across his forehead and he roughly pushes them back, but it does not comply. Jyn turns her head back to the controls, and hears his gruff sigh and him walking towards the communication port. She keeps an eye on the secondary transmission screen and waits, until his second attempt from trying to impatiently force-feed the data chip in goes through and transmitted, before vacating the pilot seat and back to the body of the ship.  

Cassian has been gritting his teeth, his eyes ablaze and she smothers his apology into his mouth, her tongue licking into his lips, and she can't help her groan as his hands cages her waist too tightly; she can feel him try to indent his fingers against her skin and flesh, searing through her thin dress. Her hair is done in a long side-braid and she feels him try to tangle his fingers into her hair and found no purchase, realizing the difference. She takes the chance, to remind herself, that as she pulls the back of his shirt up and spreads her hand over the base of his waist, she can count the ridges of his tailbone, that when he gasps into her mouth, it is not pain now, but it flares him backwards, a whimper escaping him as her hand cushions him from the hard steel of the spacecraft.   

She can't help thinking that maybe he does like her hair long like this. His fingers came up to trace the bow of her lips, and she ends up kissing his fingers, still covered by gloves, as he firmly passes the paint from her mouth. 

He  brushes the hair by her cheeks away, cupping her under her cheekbones. "You, Jyn," he murmurs, pressing the words into the bridge of her nose, which explains the soreness of it, and moisture passes to the corners of her eyes as she shuts them tight. He is still there, his knees bending slightly so their legs can tangle in the right places for him to reach her height. "I fight by you. With you."

Jyn doesn't reply, because he knows she is upset, and he will not take what she wants to say seriously. She _does_ know why she is upset, but she doesn't know why she is crying when he is trying to re-memorize her. Maybe she does, she thinks as she peels part the uniform as he tears off his gloves, and his hot hands cups her face, grinning as he brushes the rest of the lip color from her chin before taking her mouth again, angling his head up to her.   

She allows herself to be cruel, intentionally cruel for once, and his groan tells her that it is what he wants, too. So her leg stays between his legs, and she lets her lips stray, sponging her kisses from his lips, to his jawline, to his temple and only goes back to his mouth as he utters her name.

Her eyes opens when he shifts back and watches him gathers air, how his long lashes flutter, how his forehead creases. "I fight," he says, skimming the tip of his nose against hers, "I fight to be with you."

He leans in to kiss her again, and he is tangling her legs around his waist and tosses her shoes off her feet and she holds on, fiercely.

 

(Back in the confines of his room, when he presses his chest to her back, his nose at the crook of her arm, his steady breathing matching hers, she allows herself to savor those words. And she is calm, then, content to stay in this universe.

She utters the words that she has been cradling too protectively into his hair, and thinks it as a rehearsal, a promise and an acceptance all at once.)


End file.
